The fairy queen sleeps.
In a bed made of roses,
She makes not a sound.
Her valley is hidden.
A mystery to man,
For her rest is sacred
For all the nature around.
She sleeps like a bear
On a cold winters nights.
She gives love to her pillow,
For in her bed is she bound.
But man is tenacious,
And her home did they find.
They lit it afire,
Nothing left alive.
Then the fairy woke up
And found her home lost and dead.
Everything ashes,
She now was alone.
She did all she could
To restore her home,
But no matter how much she tried
Man would return.
The fairy was lonely.
The fairy was cold.
A terrible queen
Without a home.
She wandered the valley
In search of a friend,
But no matter where she went
There was always man.
Her homes were destroyed
To make way for bars,
Her friends were killed
To provide leather for clothes.
The fairy had enough.
She went to man;
Demanded to speak to their leader
To make a request.
“O’ leader!” she started.
“O’ leader of man!
You destroy my home
And leave nothing for us.”
“And why should we?”
Said the leader of man.
“We own this land.
We do what we want!”
“You are wrong.
This land is no ones.
It belongs to nature
And we must respect it.”
“Nay, I say,
I must dispute.
This land is my land!
Not another word.”
The fairy grew angry,
She had enough.
“Then nature take you!”
And she left.
Many years pass,
And man begins to leave
For they had no food;
For they could farm no land.
With man gone,
Nature returned.
The fairy found new friends
And could once again rest.
And rest she did.
On a pile of roses
In the valley of fairies
Where she was queen.
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